


Into the Woods

by Sky_kiss



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Blood Drinking, Copious Amounts of Sass, Excuse Plot, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Power Dynamics, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-21 11:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14914913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sky_kiss/pseuds/Sky_kiss
Summary: Ursa's village was the furthest inland of  the Fire Nation Colonies. They lived the shadow of the continent's most ancient forest. Legend suggested a powerful creature prowled those woods.  So long as the colony provided him sustenance, he would tolerate their proximity, protect them from wandering spirits. This year, Ursa would serve as their sacrifice. Or: Ozai's a vampire. Ursa's a snack.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Karuva. Who wanted vampires. And more specifically, Vampire!Ozai deflowering Virgin Ursa.

Their village was the furthest inland of all the Fire Nation colonies. The terrain was less coastal and less familiar to the island dwelling citizens as a result. Necessity must have dictated the town’s placement. It seemed almost random, a happenstance. Fortuitous, certainly. This was the last open patch of land for miles. 

The settlement was situated right on the doorstep of one of the continent’s largest, and older, forests. They towered over the (comparatively) meager buildings. To the Fire Nation natives they seemed an ill omen, a far cry from the stunted fauna of their homeland. They grew closely together. Their canopy was thick, blotting out all but a few stray shafts of sunlight. The end result was...eerie. The forest was a twisting, almost living, entity. This presence had given way to folklore over the course of the years. 

A being, otherworldly and cruel, prowled those woods. An ancient creature with gold eyes, who fed on the living to extend its own unnatural life. To the few travellers who graced their township it seemed a silly superstition. 

They knew better. They had come to respect the creature’s authority long ago.

Ursa did not know the full extent of the tale. She expected no one alive did. What mattered was the concord. Nothing else could take precedence. 

The beast had agreed to the terms centuries prior. So long as they provided him sustenance, he would not walk among them. The specifics were never addressed but the criteria were the same, time and again. A young woman, beautiful, a virgin. They would be returned to the village once he finished his...indulgences. Then the creature would return to its slumber. For centuries, this arrangement served them well. 

Ursa would be their sacrifice. She felt for shame, no fear for herself. Only a quiet melancholy. Her engagement band rested in the pocket of her simple dress, forgotten. Whatever the creature wanted from her, she was to provide. Such was the way of the concord. 

She swallowed, nodding to herself, before stepping into the darkness. No one had come to see her off. Not even Ikem. This journey was hers and hers alone. The young woman hugged her cloak more tightly about herself, eyeing the forest with a hint of trepidation. Her mother wore the cloak before going to wife and her grandmother before her. Age had not managed to dull the fabrics beauty. The depth of the red was unparalleled caught somewhere between the shade of blood and rubies. The seamstress, her name long forgotten to history, had embroidered gold fabric along the hem. 

It would have been her marriage cloak. 

Ursa pushed the thought down. This was her sacrifice to make. She would not regret it. She could only move forward.  
____

The manor was impossible to find provided you were not invited. Ursa did not understand this particular enchantment. It seemed foreign to any of the spirits blessings. She walked for what seemed like hours. Time was difficult to keep straight beneath the canopy. Light filtered down with its own ebb and flow, giving the illusion of an eternal dawn or dusk. She was careful never to stray off the path. Beasts prowled these woods but they never crossed the path.

Ursa could not shake the feeling that there were eyes on her, tracing her every movement. The intention was harder to divine. It did not feel...aggressive. It did not feel malicious. But there was a weight to the stare which made her pause, turn to search the treeline. She was greeted only by shadows. The undergrowth was wilder here, twisting and writhing with a life all its own. It seemed impossible to traverse. She considered calling out to the stranger. 

The words died on her tongue. There were other beings that called the woods their home, spirits not bound by any concord. The young woman hugged her arms around herself and pressed forward. She focused on the path, twisting and weaving until she was hopelessly lost within the depth of the forest. 

The trees never cleared up, never offered space, always claustrophobic, even when the manor came into view. It was an elegant structure, well maintained. Unmistakably Fire Nation and out of place amongst this sea of green. She frowned, lingering with her hand halfway to the door. 

She thought of Ikem. Of the engagement band in her pocket. 

Ursa squared her shoulders. 

She knocked on the door. 

There’s was no immediate response. Ursa remained where she stood. Her nerves were almost electric, teasing her lower lip between her teeth. She turned to survey the garden. It was wild in places but still undeniably beautiful. With a little tending it might even have been remarkable. She knocked again. No answer. Scowling, she tried the handle. 

To her surprise, the door was not locked. She gave it a gentle push, fascinated as it drifted open, impacting softly against the wall. The inside of the house was no less grand, painted in vibrant shades of reds and golds, deep mahogany wood and marble. Her family was not wealthy enough to make trips back to the Fire Nation’s capital. What she knew of her culture was only hearsay or the pictures she had seen in books. She felt a tug deep within her, a need to walk forward, her eyes going wide. 

This place was right in a way the Earth Kingdom had never managed. Ursa’s breath caught in her throat. The young woman stepped forward, stopping in the center of the foyer. Elaborate scrolls lined the far walls. In the hallway beyond this one there were portraits. The faces were foreign to her but the artist was unmistakably talented. 

“Hello?” Her voice echoed through the empty rooms. Most shockingly, the air was fresh. She had expected the stagnation that so often accompanied undeath. She pursed her lips, rocking back on her heels. “My lord, are you home? The village sent me to…” 

The sentence drifted off. She went very still, the muscles in her back and shoulders going to taut. The sound of the front door clicking shut carried to her. She took a steadying breath, trying again, “My lord?” 

The creature’s voice reached her well before she caught sight of him, drifting around the corner. “We are too far from the Capitol to hope for manners, I see,” his tone was withering, almost drowsy. Ursa stopped short, her brow furrowing. Something in the way he spoke, the cadence, maybe, or the tenor, left her wanting to shiver. It was rich and equally rasping, as if most of his words were spoken on an exhale. The creature stepped into view, hands linked at the small of his back, “You are the young woman they sent?” 

Ursa blinked. 

She had always counted herself lucky in her choice of partner. Ikem was handsome, perpetually tanned from his work in the fields. He was not much taller than herself but he had a kind face and an easy way about him. He was a far cry from the man in front of her. 

The creature was tall, his features angular. The eyes were almost overly narrow and the most brilliant shade of gold she’d ever seen. Dark hair fell to perhaps the mid back. Even with the heaviness of his robes she could make out the lithe quality of his form. He held himself with a particular grace, shoulders back, chin tilted up. The word that first came to mind was princely. This creature was a member of the nobility, no matter how ancient. She swallowed. 

He smirked at her, tipping his head to the side, “You flatter me.” 

“I said nothing, my lord.” 

He nodded, refusing to expound on the point further, “Tell me your name.” 

“Ursa, my lord.” 

His lips curled down in a sneer, “You’ve already broken into my home and now you choose to stand on formality?” 

“I would argue, sir,” she said, flatly, crossing her arms over her breasts. Ursa stood to the full extent of her height, holding his gaze. “That my behavior hardly constitutes ‘breaking’ into your home. The front door was unlocked and I made every effort to alert you to my presence. You knew to expect me.” 

He blinked at her. His eyes widened briefly before narrowing, “You’re an impertinent little creature.” He regarded her with more interest, “Regardless. We are alone here. There is no reason to stand on ceremony. You will address me as Ozai for the duration of your stay.” 

“I was under the impression this would be a brief...affair, sir,” she fixated on a point over his right shoulder rather than on his face. In response, he shifted in that direction, centering himself in her field of vision once more. Ursa frowned.

“I will decide the length of your tenure.” Something inside her rankled at the casual dismissal. She bit the inside of her cheek to stay silent, willing herself to calm. The village; she was here for the sake of the village. Ozai chuckled, almost as if he was privy to her thoughts. He made an idle motion with his hand, “Come, Ursa. I will show you to your chambers.”

She refused to react to the way he said her name. It was too much like a caress.  
______

He did not come to her that first night. 

Ursa sat with her back to the headboard, her attention fixated upon the door, the sheets pulled up over her breasts. She was anxious rather than afraid. The young woman did not know when she finally lapsed off, exhaustion taking its toll.

It was difficult to say when she finally awoke. The quality of the light was largely unchanged. It felt like morning. Perhaps that was what mattered. Ursa stretched. Her muscles had an aching quality to them after her prior exertions. The full force of her exhaustion had not struck until Ozai had dismissed himself from her new chambers. 

The young woman frowned. The entire situation seemed...surreal. A half remembered dream. Only the strangeness of her surroundings kept her from believing she was asleep in her own bed. The house was completely silent. No lilting conversation. No birdsong drifting in from outside. No life at all. 

The strangeness stemmed from that fact. The stillness of the air, the underlying stench of death, undercut the house’s natural beauty. The chambers Ozai had granted her were extravagant. The bed alone was nearly the size of her room back home. She expected the cost of the furnishings would have fed their village for the better part of a year. It was remarkable…

...and somehow equally wrong. She bit her lower lip, crossing to the windows, throwing them open. A breeze might help. There was a little voice in the back of her head, barely a whisper, that suggested her very presence was the solution. She would breathe life into this place. She would change it, remake it. 

It did not occur to her that the voice in her head was not her own.  
____

The house was empty so far as she could tell. The spare bedrooms were all uniquely decorated but the dust lining the shelves and the linens suggested they had not seen use for years. The kitchen was in a similar state of disuse. Blessedly, the larder was well stocked with fresh ingredients.

Her host was conspicuously absent. Ursa entertained herself by tidying the kitchen and preparing a meal. She walked the length of the property twice. Still no sign of Ozai. 

It was not until late in the evening that he finally arrived, just around sunset. The creature tipped his head to the side, regarding her more carefully, “Still here, Ursa?” 

“My lord?” 

He smirked at her, rolling his shoulders, “I’m surprised you didn’t run.” 

The young woman straightened, instantaneous, as though he’d jabbed her with a pin, “I made a promise, my lord. My services for the safety of my village. I keep my word.” Ursa tipped her chin up, scowling, “And I do not run, either.” 

“My apologies, ladyship.” He did not sound particularly apologetic. Ozai held his arm out to her, “Walk with me.” He did not angle them towards the garden. The creature took great pains to avoid the residual traces of sunlight, keeping her body between himself and the windows. 

“Your home is beautiful, my lord.” 

“Ozai,” he corrected, his lips curling back over his teeth. The canines were delicately pointed. “And yes, I suppose it is. Though empty.” He stopped in the center of the hallway, regarding her with a sly breed of amusement. She was reminded of her brother’s when they were privy to a particularly good secret. His tone, by contrast, was flat, “And dead.” 

She huffed, stepping away from him, “Are you reading my thoughts?” 

“Yes.” 

Ursa stopped short, her eyes narrowing, “Is that a joke?” 

“My elder brother liked to say I have no discernable sense of humor. I will let you reach your own conclusion.” 

The young woman rounded on him, “That is not very genteel of you.”

Ozai did not smile. The man tilted his head to the side. He looked genuinely puzzled, “What about this situation struck you as genteel, Ursa?” When she did not respond (she could not; the words simply would not come), he resumed his pace. He made no attempts to continue their conversation. 

Ursa tried again, “How long am I to stay here?” 

He did not look at her, “Until I tire of you.”

“What duties am I expected to perform?” 

“Whatever tasks I deem fit.” 

The muscles in her jaw ticked. She reached up, tugging on his arm until he stopped, “My lord, please. Understand my predicament. If you could offer even a little clarity…”

The man stepped forward. He was too close for propriety. Near enough that she could feel heat radiating off his skin. Even in her limited experience she was aware that the male body tended to run warmer. Ikem liked to hold her hand; she had always marvelled at the heat of him. 

Ozai was different. It was not unlike standing too near a fire during the winter months. Or falling asleep in the sun. It was just this side of too much, pleasantly claustrophobic. He was a tall man. When he stood this near to her, she was forced to fall back a step. She tipped her head back to meet his gaze. Ozai frowned. It was not unfriendly, or even pointed. The same confusion flitted across his face, as if her words confused him, “You agreed to this task the same as every young woman before you. They never asked so many questions.” 

“Well. I’m asking now.” 

Ozai hummed, searching her face for something. Or searching her mind. “Yes. I’ll never have peace until I indulge you, Ursa.” He shook his head. The amusement was back. He leaned in nearer, until his lips brushed the shell of her ear, “Very well. Ask me why you’re here.”

She tipped her head back further, holding his eyes. They glowed in the evening light. Her voice remained even, “Why am I here, Ozai?” 

“To satisfy me.” 

It was a non answer. But she felt those three words. They coiled in the back of her mind, ripe with promise, hungry. His attention flicked to her lips and he chuckled. Ozai stepped back, offering his arm again.  
______

They take their meal together. 

Or...some approximation of a meal. Ozai lingered with her in the kitchen as she prepared something for herself. He did not eat. But he seemed both amused and intrigued as she gathered the necessary ingredients from the larder. He was leaned against the counter now, worrying an herb between his thumb and forefinger. It was a guileless display and somehow charming. 

“Were you always like this?” Ursa set the ladle on the counter. Ozai arched one brow. He was very feline in his mannerisms. Haughty and more than a little bemused. She clarified, “Were you human once?” 

“Your curiosity risks becoming tedious, Ursa.” 

“Indulge me?” 

He was lonely. He was not the sort of man to admit such things. Spirits, he did not seem the sort of man to so much as recognize his own potential for loneliness, but he was. He carried it with him. It lingered in his voice whenever they spoke; his language sometimes stilted, sometimes sharp. “A long time ago, ladyship.” 

“Years?” 

“A century, maybe.”

She worried her lower lip between her teeth, “Are there others like you?” 

“No.” 

She took a steadying breath, “How can you be sure?” 

Ozai smirked at her, lips curling back with exaggerated intent. There was nothing friendly in his expression. It was feral, ancient, proud. He crossed his arms over his chest, reminding her of an affronted prince, “A long time ago I made it a point to find my kindred. And kill them. Now,” his tone dipped, rasping along her nerves, “Only I remain.” 

Ursa dropped her gaze. Very lonely indeed. She reached out to him without thinking, setting her hand over his forearm. It was a ghost of a touch and nothing more, “I’m very sorry.” 

He shrugged, standing to the full extent of his height, “I am not. They were unworthy of their blood; I took what they could not protect. I made myself a legend.” 

“And so you live here,” she turned back to the soup. The words were tripping off her tongue before she could stop them, dangerous, “Alone in the woods. The world has forgotten you.” 

His lips curled back in a snarl. Ozai’s eyes flared again, brilliant and gold. He took one step towards her before catching himself. For the second time that day, they are near enough to touch, skin to skin. He stopped before it came to that, his fingers already curling as if to take her wrist. 

For the first time, she was afraid. This creature in front of her was feral, something outside her comprehension, and she was afraid…

Her thought jarred him back to awareness. Ozai straightened, focusing on a point beyond her, “I was correct, Lady Ursa. Your curiosity is tiresome.” 

They spent the next hour in silence.  
_____

He did not come to her that first week. Or the week after that. 

They fall into a strange routine. Ursa awakening in the early evening. Those few hours before he rose were hers alone. Sometimes she cleaned. Sometimes she read. Sometimes she wondered after the village. Around sunset, Ozai would emerge from whenever he slumbered. They would walk the property. She would ask questions. He would treat her to half answers. 

She would prepare a meal and they would retire to the dinning hall. The table was designed for a much larger family, perhaps for banquets. The sat on opposites ends. The distance between them was both vast and stifling. Ursa pushed her food from one side of the plate to the other. It was bland and tasteless. 

The air felt different tonight. Electric, charged...it was a change she had noted these past few days. Now it was at a fever pitch. She wanted to ask him…

Ozai chuckled, massaging his temple. He looked tired tonight, “Then ask, ladyship.” 

She pursed her lips, “I wish you wouldn’t do that.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t think so loudly. We’re both destined for disappointment.” 

She fought back the instinctive urge to snap at him, “What’s changed? Something’s different tonight.”

He sighed, “The moon, I expect.” He turned in his seat, facing the window. Silvery moonlight cut diagonals through the glass. The already sharp lines of his face were even sharper in profile, almost gaunt. “It’s full now. The spirits will walk the world more freely…” 

“Does that bother your kind?” 

“Yes,” Ozai touched his temple again. He looked as though he were fighting a headache. His lips were pursed to a thin line, “You are safe here. They won’t come so far as the house.” 

“And if I were to leave?” 

He grinned, wolfish. His eyes raked over her, lingering at the curve of her throat, “You have a beautiful body, Ursa. I’m sure one of the spirits would enjoy taking it.”

She chuckled despite herself, pushing her plate aside. Ursa stood, closing the distance between them. She slipped into the chair on his right. Curiosity tugged at her, “Are you like them? Could you take my…” She stopped herself mid sentence, glaring. Ozai was smirking at her, one brow arched in question. “Possess. Could you possess my body?” 

“No.” 

“Then what I am I here? What is my purpose?” 

“Who else would bore me with inane questions, pet?” His expression softened. Ozai sighed again. He set his hand on the table, settled halfway between them, palm up. He curled his fingers in invitation. Ursa frowned, hesitating before placing her hand in his. “Sustenance, Ursa. That is your purpose,” he turned her wrist up, smoothing his thumb over the delicate bones. He could snap them if he wanted. It wouldn’t take more than a thought. “My kind must feed. We draw our strength from the blood of the living.” 

Her mouth was dry. Ursa frowned, willing herself to focus. It was difficult. She kept fixating on his touch, the warmth of his skin. It bordered on hypnotiq. Her tongue smoothed over her lower lip, wetting it, “You want my blood?” 

“Yes.” 

“If I give it to you...will you let me return home?”

“Eventually.” 

She huffed. Ursa inspected him more carefully. It was not an illusion. His eyes were more sunken, duller, than when she first arrived. Dark bags ringed the sockets. His hair had assumed a more brittle quality, wilder. The entirety of him was...aged. She threaded her fingers through his, stilling his movement, “It’s yours then, my lord. We had an agreement.” 

His eyes lit with a dark amusement, “Brave and beautiful Ursa…” he lapsed off, attention flicking to her throat once more. He tugged on her hand. She made no token show of resistance. Some part of her wanted to know, to understand what this entailed. Color flooded her cheeks as he seated her across his lap. His arm wound around her waist, heavy, holding her in place, “Breathe.” 

His lips played across her throat, warm. His touch lingered even after he moved on, marking her, branding. She looped her arms about his shoulders to remain steady. Her voice was quiet, “Will there be pain?” 

“Some. Briefly,” he lifted his head, “I will be gentle.”

She rolled her eyes. Ozai was not capable of gentle. The wild grin said he knew as much. Ursa took a steady breath, nodding. This was the reason she’d been sent for; the reason she’d come. She could weather this. Ozai pressed his lips to her pulse. 

The man’s teeth broke skin. There was pain, an awful, burning sensation licking across her nerves. Ursa grunted, digging her nails into his skin, fighting not to jerk away. She could feel the teeth buried in her with every beat of her heart, seated, but waiting. Ursa forced herself to calm, focusing on the warmth of the body against hers instead. The discomfort dulled and then faded altogether.

She’d gone numb. It was the only thought she could manage. Her mind was foggy, floating. The hand on her waist slid upward, pressing insistently against her ribs, driving the air out of her lungs, pulling her closer.

She smiled, a memory breezing through her head. When she was a girl, her brothers had fed a mouse to a python, hadn’t they? Perhaps the mouse had felt like this too. Enveloped, warm…  
Teeth in its neck…but it was a comfortable death, wasn’t it?

Ozai’s voice came from inside her head, rasping , low. Relax. Breathe and give in, give over. The surrender was such a huge part of it. Even Ozai didn’t properly understand. Something in his infected, feverish blood, perhaps. The need to own, to corrupt, taking hold even at the cellular level; she let herself go limp. Relax. Trust him.

She was aware of the pressure first. The swift rushing of blood as he actually began his feeding. The world spun near the edges. She shut her eyes, listened. Ozai groaned, the sound low and needy, licking along her spine. She could feel her heartbeat, pounding in her skull, echoing through every inch of her frame. She could feel the weight of Ozai’s hand; the warmth of his body against her own. She could feel…

Ursa let out a hiss of air, the moan caught on the tip of her tongue.

It was different from anything she’d ever experienced. A gentle, swelling pleasure, starting from the press of his lips and licking outward. It was too many glasses of sake and slipping into a hot bath. Or a lover’s hands on her body. Or sleeping beneath a warm summer sky. Or an insistent, insistent pressure…

She bit down on her lip, groaning, digging her nails in Ozai’s shoulder. The disconnect in her thoughts was much worse now, a rapid fire succession of wants, needs. She needed something more (and couldn’t say what); she wanted to move (and couldn’t say why). It pulled at something deep inside her, coiling low in her belly. Ursa squirmed, the arms around her tightening like a vice; too much, like her blood was on fire, needing to escape her veins. She could hear herself, panting lightly, the gentle rustle of fabric as she shifted. Close, close, she could feel some sort of resolution on the horizon. Drawing her up even as the pressure grew unbearable; mindless, she gave herself over to it, curiosity overriding self preservation.

She wanted to know it, to understand, to feel…

His hand swept up. Only to hold her; to stop her squirming. She was painfully aware of its weight. His thumb nestled against the underside of her breast. Something had changed. It was too much. It’d gone on too long. His hold had turned bruising and the pressure deepened, deafening, maddening, threatening to tear her apart. She wanted it. She wanted it so badly it ached.

Close, she tucked her nose against the crown of his skull. Close, close, cl…

Ozai pulled away, smoothing his tongue over the marks to close them. Ursa felt the unknowable urge to cry out. The loss was almost crushing, every inch of sensation falling away at once, leaving her empty, frustrated. She didn’t dare to move, her head still swimming dangerously.

He was panting, nose tweaked against the rise of her breasts. Ursa clung to him. She felt...weak. Weightless. Dreamy was the word. It felt as if she were dreaming. Ozai turned his face into her throat, dragging his lips under her jawline, up and over cheek. 

He hesitated before reaching her lips. Their eyes met. She saw the hunger there, the longing for something more. In that moment, addled as she was, she might have let him go further. There was such promise. He would stretch her out over the table and devour her, ravish her, unmake her. 

The words manifest inside her head, as if he did not trust his voice, “You should return to your chambers, Ursa.” She wasn’t certain her legs would support her. Ozai shook his head, “Very well.” 

The journey was a blur. Ursa lapsed in and out of awareness. It was difficult to focus on the particulars. Physical sensation still bled through the haze. She catalogued the heat of him, the strength of the body against hers. The scent of him, vaguely spicy, colored with a hint of decay. Like leaves in the fall. 

Ursa awoke to sunlight streaming in through her bedroom window. She was alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes. We're done with the excuse plot bits. Look. Hopefully this is ok. This isn't how I'd usually have my smut. These idiots haven't longed for each other for...75K. But. Hopefully it's alright. Otherwise. I'm very, very sorry.

Her head ached.

Ursa cupped her hand over her eyes, turning her face into the pillow. The light hurt in a way it never had before and the swimmy quality from last night still colored her vision. The young woman groaned, smoothing her fingers along the column of her throat. She felt bruised.

Brow pinched, she managed to fight herself free from the covers, staggering over to the mirror. It was more difficult than she’d have liked to admit. Her legs were still weak. Her skin was pale. She looked, quite frankly, like death warmed over. Ursa made a low sound of displeasure, pushing the hair away from her neck.

The skin was unblemished. She frowned, craning her head to the side. No bruises, no discoloration; nothing to mark last night's events at all. Only two small abrasions, no larger than a papercut, remained. Ursa leaned her forehead against the mirror. She felt…

Agni, it was hard to quantify. Dreamy, maybe; as if she was still struggling to surface after a particularly deep sleep. She winced, massaging her temples.

Ozai’s voice came from within her thoughts, softer. The rasping quality from the night before was absent, pitched lower, as if to avoid aggravating her head, “You should not be up yet.”

The glass was blessedly cool. Ursa’s skin was overheated, “What time is it?”

“It will be evening soon.”

“Evening?” She had slept through the day...Ursa groaned, shaking her head, “I feel so weak.”

“Expected,” he replied, tone withering. She scowled, fingers curling in towards her palms. She didn’t need him in the room with her. She pictured his face (young again, handsome and vivacious); the latent tug of desire manifest almost instantaneously. His laughter echoed through her mind, “Return to bed. I will find you something to eat.”

“I don’t trust you to cook.”

“Wise of you, pet.”

She shook her head. She wanted to argue. Her legs wouldn’t allow it. Ursa turned, wincing. She staggered once, only just managing to catch herself on the edge of the mattress. Groaning, she crawled back amidst the pillows. The sheets were tangled somewhere near her feet. Darkness took her before she could reach for them.  
_____

Ursa dreamed.

She was not back home; not tonight. Instead, she walked the forest. In this dream, she was barefoot. The young woman tipped her head back. The summer air was cool on her skin, refreshing. A light dew coated the grass, kissing along her feet, her legs. Gooseflesh chased down the length of her arms and yet she was not cold.

There were spirits in these woods. Left to her own devices, they would happily consume her.

Ursa smiled, holding her arms out in front of her. Silvery moonlight broke over her skin, left her pale and perfect. Her shadow stretched out until it reached the treeline. She watched, fascinated, as a second shadow joined her own. Ozai stepped in behind her. His lips played along the column of her throat.

Yes, the spirits would consume her, hurt her, if she were alone. But she was not. She belonged to him. And so long as the scent of him lingered on her skin, her tongue, her essence, they would not dare touch her. She pressed back against him. Ozai was solid and warm. His arms wound around her waist.

“Beautiful Ursa…”

She smiled, threading her fingers together with his. The sensations from that night returned, banked, but still present. Her temperature spike with his proximity. She longed for his touch…

His hands skirted higher, resting just below her breasts. He could crush her ribs if he wanted. He could drive the air from her lungs. He nosed the curve of her jaw instead, smirking, “Beautiful and brave.”

She felt brave. Ursa let out a ragged breath, leaning her head back against his shoulder. She wanted to stay like this, weightless in his hold. Her heart thundered in her chest; her pulse in her ears. If spirits truly haunted this place, she wished they would manifest. There was a purely human thrill in rebellion. In vengeance. Their village had lived in fear of these woods and these creatures…

And now she was safe. Ozai would keep her safe. So long as she remained his.

Ursa was innocent but she was not ignorant. She had lived the entirety of her life on a farm. She understood the logistics of sex. It had...not strictly appealed to her. When she was around Ikem, when his touch would linger at the curve of her waist, she would feel a pull deep within her. After a few moments it would fade. Ozai was different. 

Her skin burned where he touched her. The sensation lingered long after he’d withdraw, electricity licking along her nerve endings. She wanted to experience it. She wanted to know what it would feel like it if his touch drifted lower. If he tasted her as he had last night.

“I could show you,” he mumbled, nosing her shoulder. Her robe was a gauzy white, translucent, torrid. She has never seen anything like it, never read of such a thing. It’s his choice then. His consciousness tangling with hers, a shared experience. “Would you like that, pet?” 

His touch shifted nails raking down over her abdomen. His thumb traced the line of her hip. The backs of his fingers smoothing across her lower belly. She bit her lip, breath catching in her throat. 

Ozai smirked, baring his teeth against her pulse. His right hand dipped lower, cupping her through the robe. She whined, pressing into his touch, the feverish heat of his skin bleeding through the thin material. She wanted, needed, to feel him. Skin on skin. He sucked at the curve of her shoulder hard enough to make her gasp, “Remember this feeling, little dove. Remember your desire.” 

She opened her mouth to question him.

The knock on her door stopped her, dragging her from her slumber.

She awoke, aching, wet, miserable.  
______

True to his word, Ozai had brought her food. He had chosen to forego preparing a meal. Instead, a variety of fruits were set out on a tray. Bread and oil were set off to the side. And tea. The scent of jasmine wafted on the air, soothing her frazzled nerves. 

Ursa dragged a hand through her hair, closing her eyes, willing herself to calm. 

His touch lingered. Her core ached. The young woman pressed her palm to her forehead. It was an entirely new frustration. Her skin was too tight and she wanted out; she wanted to claw at herself, to run until her lungs spasmed, anything to relieve the pressure. 

She padded across to the washbasin, splashing some of the cool water on her face. If nothing else, it offered a hint of clarity. She took a steadying breath. It was a dream. The sensations would fade and she would return to herself. 

She would eat. She would redress. She would forget this.  
_____

Ozai’s face was as impassive as ever as they settled in for dinner. He looked more like himself. Handsome, arrogant, regal. He’d chosen to wear his hair loose tonight. She hid a smile behind her hand; consciously or otherwise, he’d opted to indulge her preference. 

“You’re quiet tonight, Ursa,” he shifted his weight to the left, adopting a more indolent posture. It was never quite right with Ozai. His movements were graceful, yes, but never lazy, never relaxed. He could never relinquish control long enough for that. One corner of his lips ticked up, “No more inane questions?” 

“I would hate to bore you, my lord,” she pushed her plate to the side. Her appetite was nonexistent. The fluttering, anxious, quality in her belly refused to settle. Ursa scowled, curling her fingers against the table, “I want to return home. I have served my purpose. I fulfilled my end of the bargain.” 

The immortal nodded. It ached to look at him. His eyes glittered in the low light, “You have.” 

“Then you will let me leave?”

Ozai smirked, making an idle gesture with his arm, “All you have to do is walk out the door, Ursa.” 

She frowned, staring towards the foyer, “You will not stop me?” 

“I will not,” he folded his hands in front of him on the table. Despite the capitulation, he sounded more sure of himself, more grounded, than every. It was the voice a man aware of his victory, teasing it out, “You may return to your tedious little life and your tedious fiancée. To marry and birth his children,” she swallowed. She imagined Ikem touching her. Ikem kissing her. Sweet and inexperienced and clumsy; his calloused hands pawing at her breasts. Some of it was Ozai. The images, more torrid than she would have dreamed of summoning, flooded her mind. His bulk over her, moving into her, searching for his own pleasure and failing to satiate her. It would not be cruel. It was simply the way with simple men. Ozai smiled, his expression softer. “Or you can stay here. With me.” 

Her mouth was dry, “Why?” 

“A prince need not explain himself to a peasant.” 

Her shoulders squared, rankling, “A prince should explain himself to his princess.” 

Ozai laughed. The sound was not unpleasant, not even particularly cruel. For the first time, there was a genuine amusement. Her spirit pleased him. She felt as much. He nodded, “You are correct, pet.” 

His answer filled her head; one word, thick with sentiment. Desire. He desired her. 

A shiver chased down her spine. Ursa rose from her seat, barely thinking. She buried her reservations, her common sense, beneath her instincts. The young woman dropped her gaze, holding out her hand. 

He desired her. She wanted him. 

Why shouldn't they indulge? 

Ozai grinned.  
______

“You are innocent.” 

Ozai tipped his head to the side, smiling as he dragged his fingers through her hair. She turned into the touch on instinct. His skin was warm to the point of feverish, a blessed change from the chill of the manor. The young woman’s eyes drifted shut, listening to the steadiness of her own breathing. The gentle scrape of his nails over her scalp. 

She nodded. The low rumble of his voice washed over her, easing away any latent concerns. He was near enough to feel his warmth. A particular scent clung to his clothes, his skin. It was spicy and singularly masculine. 

Being here, alone in her chambers, felt like an inevitability. She was suddenly nervous.

“Tell me, Ursa,” his voice was nearer, beside the shell of her ear. At some point he stepped closer, barely an inch separating them. He was careful never to let their bodies touch. “What experience do you have?”

“Very little, my lord,” she hated the breathless quality lacing her words. She teased her lower lip between her teeth, shifting. Two urges dueled within her. The urge to press forward, to finally touch him, and the need to shy away from the unearthly creature. “My fiancé...he has kissed me.” 

“Often?” 

“No, my lord.”

She opened her eyes to find him smirking, his lips curled back just enough to showcase two finely pointed canines. Ozai reached out, tracing the line of her cheek, “Show me.” Her brow furrowed in silent question. If her hesitation irritated him, he did not show it. The creature chuckled, the sound amused, indulgent, “Show me how that boy kissed you, Ursa.” 

She did not know this man. She was not promised to this man. Even if she had agreed, even if she wanted this, her upbringing remained. Ursa glanced down. The elders had warmed her away from such behavior. It was unbecoming of a young woman...

Ozai curled a finger beneath her chin, tipping her head up, “Your elders are not here, little dove. Only you. Only me. I will take only what you offer me.” 

She blinked, a swell of relief flooding her, “Why? You could have whatever you wanted.”

“Yes. And should I take pride in that?” his attention was fixated on her throat. His eyes were beautiful, she decided. A gold that glowed with their own a light all their own. Captured flames. His lips twitched, “Any animal can take what it wants. You are a delicate creature, little dove. It would not take much to overpower you. There is no thrill in it. No challenge, no honor,” she found herself smiling in return, grateful. “So I will take what you offer. Nothing more.”

Ursa nodded, searching his face for any signs of deception. There was nothing. Only the fine, elegant angles of his cheeks and jawline. The smirk entirely knowing. The young woman stepped forward, resting her hands on his shoulders, palms pressed flat against his chest. She could feel the flex of muscle beneath her hands. She leaned forward, eyes still open, and pressed her lips to his. A gentle brush, closed mouth, before pulling away. She cleared her throat, “Like that, my lord.” 

He hummed, “Such a waste.” The young woman shifted back a stepped. Not ashamed. She would not mourn her inexperience or that she had respected her own chastity. Instead, it registered as affront. He asked her to show him and she had. Ozai’s expression softened, “I mean no offense.” 

“And what did you mean?” 

“A woman of your caliber is meant for passion. You should burn,” he dipped his head. His lips were a hair's breadth from her own. Waiting for her to close the distance, to take that final step. “Be touched in ways that make you feel, leave you coiled within your own skin…”

Ursa nodded. If she took a deep breath they would touch. She felt light headed, just this side of drunk. Anticipation coiled low in her belly, mixing with the hint of promise. He would show her if she wanted. She just had to take the final step. Her mouth was dry. She smoothed her tongue over her lower lip, “I want to know what that’s like.” 

“Ask me to show you.” 

She felt his words against her skin, lips tracing the rise of her cheeks. It burned where they touched. The contact branded her. The young woman reached out, resting her hands on his waist. She curled her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, tugging, “Show me. Please.” 

He needed no more incentive. Ozai cupped her face in his hands, thumb smoothing across her cheek before he dipped his head, pressing his lips to hers. An iron tang lingered on his lips, not strictly pleasant. One of his hands moved to curl around the back of her neck, craning her head up towards him. She jerked, eyes widening as his tongue swiped along her lower lip. His touch held her in place, kept her from moving in her surprise. His voice filled her mind. 

Open for him; let him in. Hesitantly, she parted her lips. 

Ursa made some sound, soft, choked. His tongue pushed into her mouth, stroking along the line of her teeth before finding her. She pressed nearer to him on instinct. There was something delicious in the act, different from the chaste touches she had shared with Ikem. This was hunger, want, stroking her, leading her in some languorous dance. Ozai walked them backwards, seating himself on the edge of the mattress. He tugged on her hip, drawing her over his lap. 

She tangled her hands in his hair, enjoying the change in angle. If she braced her knees on the mattress she could press up, meet him more evenly. Ozai tipped his head back and she pressed forward. His right hand settled at the small of her back, crushing her against his chest. 

He felt good beneath her. He tasted good. 

Ursa groaned, smoothing her hands over his chest. She tugged at his shirt. The fabric itched and she wanted it gone. Ozai chuckled, nipping at her chin before leaning back, guiding her hands. His skin was darker than her own, more golden. She pushed his robe down and over his shoulders. 

She bit her lip.

Ozai was...attractive. It had been a vague awareness before and was a certainty now. She pressed her palms against his pecs, savoring the strength in his form. There was a lithe quality to his body, every muscle lovingly toned. He was different than the farmers she’d grown up around, less...solid. She dragged her nails down his side, reveled in the way the flex of his abdomen. She dug the heel of her hand into his belly, pressing him back into the mattress. He chuckled, airy, pleased. Indulging her…

Her mouth was dry. She leaned in, painting his chest with kisses. He was hers to explore. Ursa tucked her face in the curve of his throat. There was no pulse beneath her lips but he jerked, hips rocking forward, when she bit him. 

She felt powerful. His eyes raked over her, heavily lidded. She drew her dress over her head. 

She feared him. She wanted him. There was something ancient in his eyes when he looked at her, not quite human. A soul deep hunger that she could not properly understand. His hands settled on her hips, holding her in place. 

“Tell me to touch you, Ursa.” 

Her voice was airy. Emboldened, she twined her fingers with his, dragging his touch to her breasts. Ozai grinned, pressing up on his free arm. He held her gaze as he flipped her beneath him, lowering his head to her chest. Ursa swallowed heavily, breath catching in her throat. She shivered, legs clenching around his hips as his tongue flicked out, teasing her nipple into a hard peak. He drew the bud between his teeth, suckling at her. Gentle at first before biting, the sudden change enough to make her keen. 

She felt no shame, no hint of the hesitance she might have expected. It felt too good having him like this. The young woman threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him in place. He made no effort to move, tracing her nipple with his tongue. His lips curled up in a smile, nails raking down her belly. He paused, folding his touch over her core, waiting for her approval. She nodded. This was better than her dreams, her nerves singing as his fingers teased through her folds. 

“Mm, and I feared you would rebuff me…”His voice was a low purr, honey and silk. No one could deny him; no one had. She groaned, turning her face into the pillow, sucking her lip between her teeth. He stroked along her core, humming in consideration as he traced her entrance. He chuckled, tracing the rise of her breast with his tongue, “What a beautiful thing you are, pet.”

She ached. Ursa clenched her thighs around his hand. She would not beg him. Ozai smirked, pushing up on his elbow. One finger curled beneath her chin, forcing her to stare down the length of her body, to watch him. She swallowed, “I am not some dog you call to heel.” 

“No, you are so much more.”

She choked, darkling fascinated as his fingers pressed inside her. She felt stretched, whining, bucking her hips forward. His skin was too warm and that heat felt...Agni, so good. She was full of fire. It called the darker aspects of heritage; the bloodline of the Avatar. She moved her hips in time with the press of his fingers, needy, hungry for more. The hint of pain, of being stretched, was not enough to dissuade her. 

“Patience,” he leaned in, suckling at her pulse, breathing more heavily. He was not half so composed as he liked to believe. Her arousal slicking his fingers, breaking his resolve. She could feel him hard against her hip. As invested in this little power play as he was in fucking her.

She could just make out the outline of his hand between their bodies, fingers thrusting into her with more intent. The heat was suddenly more pressing, her need building to a fever point. She was burning. Every muscle in her body went tight, seeming to spasm at once. Ursa whimpered, clutching at his shoulders. She wanted to kiss him again, to taste his skin, to devour him.

Ozai groaned, easing himself free as she shuddered around his fingers.

Her body was slick with sweat when he finally settled over her, kissing her hungrily. She met him with the same energy. The muscles in her thighs felt weak. Her body felt weak. She was so tired. 

She still wanted him. There would be time for romance later. To admire the rest of her lover's form. Tonight was about need. Ozai kicked his trousers down his legs, settling over her. She took a steadying breath. The first press of his cock, hard and feverishly warm, made her tense. 

He smirked, sucking at the underside of her jaw. His fingers dipped between them again, rubbing hard circles over her clit. The young woman let out a hoarse cry, instinct overwhelming her decorum. Ursa rolled into his touch, his cock achingly hard as she slid over him. She reached for him, her hand curving around his length. A sickly thrill chased through her. He went taut in her hold, head lolling forward against her shoulder. 

Ursa laughed, short and breathy, pressing her lips to his temple, “I have tricks too, my lord.”

An airy moan was all he managed before he returned to kissing her, swallowing the air she so badly needed. Her inner walls clenched around nothing as he rocked into her, teasing, leading her in the most instinctual of rhythms. 

He curled a finger under her jaw, staring down at her. She could not say why but it felt every bit as intimate, as pornographic, to hold his gaze, staring into his eyes as he positioned himself at her entrance. She refused to let herself blink, her hands dragging down his body and curling over his hips. She nodded, still staring as he thrust into her.

The pain was muted, nothing like the old women had described to her. It’s a pinch, a tear, her body too willing. Ozai stilled within her, painting her face with kisses as she adjusted to the feel of him. It was maddening, pressure building at the base of her spine. She wanted him to move. She needed him to move. 

She whined, nails digging into his ass, head jerking back against the pillows. She bit the inside of her cheek, felt her body stretching to accommodate him. The low ache, that banked ember, flared back to life. She wanted to scream. She felt whole and perfect, tangling one hand in his hair.

“Ursa,” he whispered her name. She allowed herself to look down, staring at the point where they were joined. He thrust into her slowly, even, with more consideration than she would have given her credit. She whimpered watching his length disappear in her too willing body. “Beautiful Ursa.”

She wound her arms around his shoulders, pulling his chest flush against her own. His weight was stifling, perfect. Every inch of them molded together, feverish, delirious heat.  
____

Ursa awoke curled against her lover’s chest. Ozai’s arms remain wrapped around her, nose tucked into the hollow of her throat. Outside, it was dark. Her skin was still tacky. Their legs were tangled together. She hadn't been out long. The young woman allowed herself a pleased sigh, stretching. She was sore but this time the sensation was…Pleasant.

Ozai chuckled. His blunt nails scratched down the length of her spine, smearing the little beads of moisture still dotting her skin. The bedroom was not cold; not really. Just chill enough to leave her shivering, pressing herself more tightly against her lover. He rolled onto his back, pulling her across his chest. 

He struck her as some great, languid feline in that moment. His hair more wild, a dark mane around his golden face. She dragged her lip between her teeth to keep from laughing, tugging on a stray lock, “You remind me of something.” He turned into her touch, pressing a kiss to her wrist before nipping her delicately. It reconfirmed her suspicion. She laughed then, squirming. His cock was soft against her thigh. A comfort and not a threat. He didn’t so much as jerk against her as she readjusted, stretching to balance her weight more comfortably. His eyes glittered in the half-light, amused, “Your hair all wild and your eyes…”

“My eyes, pet?”

She ignored him, pressing a chaste kiss to his sternum, “You’d make a handsome lion.”

“Mmm, it could be entertaining,” his hand settled at the small of her back. Ozai ducks his chin enough to meet her stare, “If it’s all the same to you, Ursa. I’ll stay right here.”

“Mmm?”

He nodded. She caught the flash of mischief just before he spoke, his hand tangling in the mass of her hair. His voice was rasping, tinged with latent desire. Hungry, always hungry. Ursa shivered, clutching him to her more tightly as he nosed her cheek, “Falling asleep inside you sounds infinitely more charming than a night under the stars.”

Ursa chuckled. The sound hung between them, breathy and wanting. 

He kissed her and their dance began again.


End file.
